


Streaks.

by heyitsnxel



Series: 30 Trope Prompts. [9]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsnxel/pseuds/heyitsnxel
Summary: Phil had always hated the large, black streak that ran across his collarbone. He hated the black lines, running like drips, down the skin underneath it. He hated that one end of the streak was darker than the other, that the middle almost looked smudged. Most of all, he hated that he had no idea what it meant.





	Streaks.

**Author's Note:**

> day 9: matching soulmate marks

Phil had always hated the large, black streak that ran across his collarbone. He hated the black lines, running like drips, down the skin underneath it. He hated that one end of the streak was darker than the other, that the middle almost looked smudged. Most of all, he hated that he had no idea what it meant.

 

The tattoos were supposed to be a clue, a hint, something that pointed you in the right direction of meeting your soulmate.

 

Some were small, like his friend PJ’s - a tiny ice cream cone on the side of his neck. He’d met his soulmate one summer walking down a boardwalk near the beach; Salt water still clinging to his curls as he collided into her, knocking her and the ice cream in her hand to ground.

 

Some were larger, like his parents – a long jump rope swirling down their arms, the handle landing on their wrists. They had been neighbors since they were children. The first day his mum had moved across the street, his dad had walked right over to her house and snatched the jump rope out of her hands. The rest was history.

 

Yet, Phil was stuck with a smudge. A streak. A black line across his chest that meant absolutely nothing to anyone.

 

* * *

 

Like all soulmate marks, it had appeared the day Phil turned 16. His family was anxiously puttering around downstairs just as eager to see what the mark would be as Phil was. He was jittery; standing in front of his bedroom mirror in nothing but a pair of boxers, waiting. It felt like hours went by before the streak formed across his chest. All his nervous excitement faded to confusion in a heartbeat.

 

People questioned it all the time. Most were polite enough to silently wonder about it, others not so much. Phil never knew what to tell them. He’d never seen anyone else with a mark like his. Everyone else’s seemed so clear.

 

* * *

 

University wasn’t any better. Everyone seemed to have found, or were finding, their soulmates. Their tattoos practically taunting Phil every time he saw one. He had to stifle a groan when his best friend Lexi came bounding into his room, dragging a poor girl by the arm.

 

Without so much as a hello, she’d shoved the girl’s wrist in his face.

“Look! Look at her tattoo! It’s my tattoo!”

And it was. The same stack of books that was on Lexi’s wrist was on this girl’s. He forced a smile listening as she swooned over their first meeting (Phil didn’t find a library all that romantic, but to each their own).

 

Don’t get him wrong. He was happy for everyone that was finding their soulmates. He was glad that they were having a much easier time than he was. But, he couldn’t ignore the jealousy. Maybe if he knew where to look, he could find them. Maybe if the black streak meant anything, he would know where to go.

 

But, it didn’t. That’s all it was. A line.

 

* * *

 

 

Phil was moping.

 

It was a Friday night and the halls of his dorm were bustling with people. Some top 40 playlist pumped through the speakers, echoing down the halls and into everyone’s rooms. There were even drinks with his name on it, just waiting to make him forget about his problems. But, he couldn’t. Some random guy he didn’t even know had found his soul mate in the middle of the living room, a weirdly fitting pop ballad playing in the background, and that’s all it took for Phil to grab a jacket and bolt out the door.

 

Now he was stuck walking around the empty campus with nothing but his thoughts. A dangerous past time, really. Over the past few weeks, Phil had begun to wonder if his mark even was a soulmate mark. Maybe it was the sign of not having a soul mate. Maybe his soul mate was dead. His mind had reeled with all sorts of unrealistic possibilities before Lexi had snapped at him.

 

_‘You’re doing it again.’ She had muttered, rolling her eyes. Lexi had never been one to let Phil overthink. She knew how his mind could wander and she wasn’t shy about telling him how stupid some of this thoughts were._

 

_‘I can’t help it!’_

 

_She’d batted him on the head with a rolled up notebook._

 

_‘You can help it. Stop wallowing in self pity and live your life. If soulmate marks didn’t exist would you still be this hung up over finding them?”_

_Phil had paused, opening his mouth to answer before abruptly closing it again. Would he still be this worried about it? He didn’t think so._

 

_Much to Lexi’s pleasure, he agreed and lived the next two days without a care in the world about his soulmate._

 

But, that’s all it was. Two days. It took 48 hours for Phil to fall back into his thoughts. Tonight only added fuel to the raging fire that was his mind.

 

He let his feet lead the way, kicking idly at the rocks strewn across the sidewalk. It was weird to be on campus when no one else was. It was eerily silent, classrooms locked behind closed doors, no lights to be seen.

 

Except one.

Just _one_.

 

Phil wasn’t even sure he’d ever noticed the small building on the campus before. The light from inside was casting shadows out the windows, the door slightly propped open. The closer Phil came the louder the sound of music became. The song abruptly switched from a MCR song he remembered from his emo phase to a dance song straight out of the 90’s. Phil felt his lips twitch into an amused smile from the abrupt change, wondering what kind of person had a playlist this wide-ranged.

 

By the time he had reached the steps leading inside, Phil froze. Wasn’t this creepy? To be wandering around campus on Friday night and then proceed to invade someone’s personal space?

 

He should probably turn around and leave.

 

He should.

 

But he didn’t.

 

Hesitantly, Phil peeked in the door and his mouth almost fell open at what he saw.

 

A small pink speaker sat on the windowsill, obviously the source of the music he’d heard before. A curly haired boy stood with his back to him, paintbrush in hand and intensely staring at the wall in front of him. It was the wall that Phil was gaping at.

 

From corner to corner, the wall was splattered with an array of colors. From red to pinks to blues and everything in between. There wasn’t a specific design that Phil could tell. It was just swirls and stripes, white outlining in certain places. Paint from the top of the wall was dripping down over other colors, mixing together. The drops should be ruining everything that was already there, but somehow it made it better. It looked intentional.

 

But, most importantly, at the very bottom corner was a large streak of black.

 

It stood out amongst the colors, the darkness seeming to collide with the rainbows splattered against the wall. Phil didn’t have time pick his mouth up off the floor before the other boy had turned around and shrieked, instinctively throwing the paintbrush in his hand in Phil’s direction.

 

It smacked him square in the face, leaving a smudge of blue across his cheek.

 

“What the hell are you doing?! Oh my god, you gave me a heart attack!”

 

Now that he had turned around, Phil couldn’t help but take in the boy’s appearance. He was clearly younger, maybe by a few years. His curls were a chocolate brown, beautiful in their own right, but almost more so with the array of paint splattered in them. In fact, most of his body seemed to be covered with flecks of paint, as well.

 

Snapping out of his stupor, Phil completely ignored everything the boy had just said. He pointed towards the black in the corner, frantically waving his arm towards it.

“What is that?”

 

The brunette scrunched his face up as he turned to the mark, releasing a heavy sigh that Phil was all too familiar with.

“I don’t know what it is, per say,” He started, chewing his bottom lip. “I hope someone will one day though.”

 

Phil didn’t know what kind of bravado had just come over him. He was practically ripping his shirt off, much to the other boy’s shock.

 

“W-What are you doing now?!”

 

By the time Phil had successful tugged his shirt over his head, the brunette was practically backed against the opposite wall. His brown eyes wide as saucers, mouth open slightly.

 

“Look!” Phil pointed at the streak across his chest before letting his finger drift back to the corner of the wall. “That is the exact same thing! I’m not crazy, right?”

 

A silence fell across the room before the sound of some indie band started humming through the speaker. The boy’s eyes began flickering between his mark and the wall. It was at this moment that Phil realized exactly what he was doing. He had literally just walked in, scared this poor guy half to death, and was now ripping his clothes off and yelling about the paint. The blush creeping up his face was hot and he was sure the red on his face probably rivaled the paint on the wall.

 

“I… Er, sorry.” Phil stammered. “I promise I’m not crazy.”

 

He forced an awkward laugh expecting the brunette to still be wary as he glanced back up towards him. Instead of being met with a face of fear, however, Phil was met with a dimpled grin. He had tugged the collar of his t shirt down and, even from across the room, Phil could see the same streak of black across the boy’s chest.

 

The same annoying streak that Phil had been looking for. The one he had hated his whole life. The one that had been questioned constantly. The one he had been overthinking for the past 5 years.

 

Phil somehow forced his mouth to work, walking across the room.

“I’ve been looking for that streak since I turned 16.”

 

“I have been putting that streak on the corner of every single thing I have painted since I turned 16. I’m Dan.”

Dan extended his hand towards Phil and he gladly took it, tracing his thumb across his skin.

 

“I’m Phil.” He didn’t let go of Dan’s hand, only intertwining their fingers before speaking again, “So, please, tell me what the heck that streak even means. It’s been bothering me for years.”

 

“I have no idea. I just started painting it because I hoped you would know what it meant and would see it one day.” Dan shrugged.

 

Phil could feel his mouth falling open, threatening to spill with questions that he now knew Dan couldn’t answer.

 

“So, you’re telling me… That this mark might not have meant anything? It was just a mark that you started painting when you were 16 to match your soulmate mark?”

 

Upon seeing the look Phil’s face, he burst into laughter. It echoed around the mostly empty room and soon enough, Phil couldn’t help but join in.

It was surprising how quick he and Dan slotted together. They both ended up on the floor, talking for a few hours about everything from anime to their family to the colors on the wall. Phil found himself enraptured with Dan’s wit, the way his mind worked. Every word that left his lips was like music to Phil’s ears.

 

“Hey Phil?” Dan started, nudging him with his shoulder.

 

“Hm?”

 

“You know how everyone always asks how soulmates met?”

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You know you're going to have to tell everyone that you terrified me, ripped your shirt off, and starting yelling about the wall, right?"

 

The smirk in Dan’s tone was so clear that Phil couldn’t help but groan. He was right. 

 

“You have got to be kidding me… You're going to have tell everyone you threw a paintbrush at my face!”

 

Dan giggled,

“I think it was justified.”

 

* * *

 

 

Phil lost count of how many times he had to tell that story over the years. People would ask and Dan would ~~innocently~~ direct the question to Phil just to make him relive the embarrassment over and over again.

 

He didn’t mind as much as he let on. It was a weird story, that was for sure, and he was positive there were weirder ones in the world. But it was their story. So, sue him for being sentimental. 


End file.
